


Playing 'What If?'

by wilde_stallyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression, BDSM, Knifeplay, M/M, Magic, Rape Role-play, Threesome - M/M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-16
Updated: 2006-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilde_stallyn/pseuds/wilde_stallyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a secret fantasy he's been hiding from his lovers. When they find out just what it is, they decide it's only fair to give him what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing 'What If?'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://the-con-cept.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_con_cept**](http://the-con-cept.livejournal.com/) for the 2006 [](http://reversathon.livejournal.com/profile)[**reversathon**](http://reversathon.livejournal.com/). A big ball of love and thanks to [](http://thegiantkiller.livejournal.com/profile)[**thegiantkiller**](http://thegiantkiller.livejournal.com/) for the beta.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Consensual kidnapping/rape role-play, magically-assisted ageplay/chan, golden showers, knifeplay, magicplay (sort of in the vein of muggle electrical play)  
> 

The pensieve sat on the low table by the window in their bedroom in the house where they had lived since Sirius had returned from beyond the Veil to find himself a free man. The obsidian basin glittered in the silvery light of the memories within, revealing where grime remained caught in the small grooves of the runes etched into the rim, despite their best efforts to clean off the years worth of dust it had accumulated sitting in the attic of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. At first Sirius had wanted to get rid of the Black family's ancestral home and its contents entirely, and would probably have set fire to it or some such in a mad attempt to destroy it forever, had Remus not convinced him that they might want or need some of the rare books and magical artefacts someday, probably for a purpose that would make his family roll entertainingly in their graves. Whether or not this counted as such a situation was up for debate.

Harry glanced around the empty room nervously, took a deep, fortifying breath, and stepped up to look down at the shimmering liquid. The glistening thoughts began to swirl, faster and faster, until they coalesced into the image of one of the Gryffindor boys' dorm rooms at Hogwarts. Touching his pocket to make sure the vial of potion Sirius had given him was still there, he leaned forward and tumbled into the pensieve. There was the requisite shock of cold and black and then he was standing in the middle of his third year dorm, surrounded by the deep breathing, and from one particular corner light snoring, of his dorm mates. Looking around, he took a moment to wonder at how easy it was, in retrospect, it was easy to tell this was their third year room, just from the feel of it, despite the fact that every room had been identical to the last when they moved in at the beginning of each year.

Drawing his focus back to the situation at hand, Harry pulled the vial of de-aging potion from his pocket, unstopped it, and swallowed the pinkish liquid in a single gulp. It tasted sweet, too sweet, like every Honeydukes sweet he had ever eaten coming back to haunt him all at once. It made his teeth ache, but he had gotten used to inevitably retched-tasting potions over the years and this was almost pleasant in comparison to some. A quick flash of pain shot down his spine, and he felt himself shrinking to the height he had been at thirteen, muscled limbs thinning out, the square lines manhood had etched into his face and body softening, reverting to their boyhood delicacy. He removed his navy blue work robes, which were now pooling around his feet, their sleeves slipping down over adolescent hands, and rummaged about in the trunk at the foot of his bed, quickly pulling on the faded pyjamas he found there. They didn't fit much better than the robes, he thought, running a hand over threadbare flannel; he had still been wearing Dudley's cast-offs at the time, at least to bed.

Thanks to Remus' tinkering this wasn't a true memory of any particular night, but a new setting woven from numerous bits and pieces of Harry's memories from third year to create surroundings suitable for their purposes; Harry's bed was empty, free of the real third-year Harry who would had inhabited the original, unaltered memory. Harry crawled into the bed, pulled the curtains closed around him, and stared the dark ceiling, tense with nervous anticipation, waiting. After about fifteen minutes Harry got tired of watching the barely visible ceiling, so he rolled over to pretend to try and sleep for a while, and continued waiting.

Harry must have dozed off at some point, despite his nervous excitement, because he awoke with a start at the sound of footsteps on the creaky dormitory floor. He held himself stock-still as the footsteps approached his bed. Suddenly the curtains were yanked back, startling him despite his preparedness, and he scuttled back into the far corner of the bed with a shriek. The man standing over him did not look quite as Harry remembered him from Daily Prophet photo: he no longer seemed three-quarters dead and his skin was no longer waxy, but the face was still gaunt, the hair framing it a tangled mess, and a wicked-looking knife glinted in his hand.

"Sirius Black," Harry breathed, eyes wide.

"Hullo, Harry," Black said, grinning madly down at him. "You're going to be coming with me now."

Before Harry could react, Black grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him from the bed. Black wrapped one surprisingly strong arm around Harry's torso, pressing the boy's back securely against his chest, and used the other hand to hold the knife to Harry's throat.

"Now, walk."

And walk Harry did, the feel of the knife edge at his throat speeding his pulse and driving all coherent thought from his mind, a shiver of fear running up his spine where it was pressed hard against Black's body. Black propelled them out of the dormitory and down the stairs towards the common room. Harry stumbled on one of the stairs and felt the knife bite into the flesh at his throat, not deep enough to be really worrying, but enough to bring Harry's mind back online and make him concentrate on where he was putting his feet.

The common room door was hanging open when they reached it. Black pushed him through it and Harry couldn't hold back a scream as they rounded the door and he saw the Fat Lady's painting empty, the canvas slashed to ribbons, earning him another nick from the knife and a growled order to shut up. They pushed through what seemed to Harry like an endless number of corridors and down an endless number of staircases until they reached the Entrance Hall, and still Black kept going, out on to Hogwarts' grounds. The wind was howling and the sky pitch black with clouds, but Black pushed them through it, against the winds, until they came to the Whomping Willow. Then Black slid the arm with the knife up to wrap around Harry's neck as he removed the other arm from around the boy's chest. The stranglehold forced Harry to bend with him as Black reached down to pick up a long stick, using it to reach the knot that froze the Willow. Black pulled Harry down the hole into the secret passageway, regaining his original hold on Harry's chest with the knife firmly against his throat before continuing down the tunnel. When they reached the Shrieking Shack, Black called out. "Oy, look what I found!"

Harry barely managed to keep his flesh away from the knife edge, the sudden outcry startling him after the silence in which Black had brought him down from the castle. Black was talking to someone, he realized: Black wasn't alone. Black's accomplice had been upstairs, but he came down at Black's call. Harry gasped as he came into view. "Pr-Professor Lupin?!"

"Ah, Harry," Lupin said. "I see you've met my friend Sirius."

Harry gaped as Lupin said to Black, "I don't think you really need to hold the boy at knife-point anymore, Sirius. Mr. Potter's our guest; we should make him comfortable."

"Good idea," Black replied, maneuvering Harry so his back was up against the far wall. He trapped Harry's wrists above his head with one large hand and kicked his feet apart. Lupin drew his wand and cast a spell Harry didn't recognize. The wall behind Harry seemed to melt, flowing out to wrap around his wrists and ankles before hardening again, replacing Black's hands in keeping him restrained. As soon as Black took the knife away from his throat, Harry tried to struggle free, but the wall held firm.

"Why don't you just kill me then?" Harry yelled at his captors.

Black smiled. "We need you, Harry. We need you to bring our Master back." He stepped closer to whisper in Harry's ear, "We need your blood." Black lowered his head to swipe his tongue over the pulse in Harry's throat.

"And the Dark Lord doesn't like receiving his toys already broken," Lupin said as he crossed the room to join them.

Black turned to flash his mad grin at Lupin, his eyes a little insane. "We can break him a little bit, though."

Then Black started to cut the pyjamas from Harry's body with that damned knife. He began slowly, shearing off each button carefully until the flannel top hung open around Harry's chest. Then he seemed to lose patience with the exercise, quickly slicing up the arms and leg, shearing the fabric from Harry's body in neat pieces. Once Harry was naked Black raised the knife to the boy's temple, letting the point trail lightly down his face, down the line of his throat, to his chest. There Black started to apply pressure as he drew out random patterns across Harry's torso, hard enough to leave angry red scratches, but not quite enough to draw blood. Harry hissed at the stinging pain they left behind.

Black worked his way down to Harry's cock, which to his shame was beginning to rise. Harry's heart raced, until he thought it would burst from his chest, as Black ran the flat of the knife along Harry's cock, coaxing it to full hardness. Black continued to caress Harry with the blade, the tip gently tickling his balls and swirling lightly around the head, the edge pressing against his shaft, threatening to break the delicate skin but never quite doing so, until Harry was aching with need, pre-cum pooling at the tip of his cock. With a quick flick of his wrist Black caught that drop of precome on the tip of the knife and brought it to his lips. Licking the fluid from the blade he turned to Lupin to share the taste of Harry in a deep, bruising kiss.

Then Black stepped back and Lupin stepped up, raising his wand to Harry's chest. Flicking each of Harry's small nipples in turn, once, twice, on the third flick he murmured a spell Harry couldn't quite make out and jolts of pure magic spread through Harry's nipples in quick succession, like a static shock, but radiating outwards from Lupin's wand tip, making Harry gasp. Lupin dragged his wand downwards, tracing the scratches Black had left on Harry's torso, trailing sparks of magic that were somehow both painful and ticklish, until Harry was shivering uncontrollably. Then Lupin murmured again and placed the tip of his wand where the base of Harry's cock met the top of his scrotum, but this time, instead of a small shock, a huge surge of magic coursed through his body. Incredible pleasure, searing pain, hot, cold, every sensation his nerves were capable of transmitting raced simultaneously through his system, making his back arch away from the wall and making him come, hard, brilliant colours flashing across his vision. He sagged against his bonds, muscle control completely beyond him, until Lupin cast a _finite incantatem_ and he fell to the floor.

Harry lay face down on the dust-cloaked floor as Lupin and Black moved around him. He registered the sound of robes falling to the floor and knew they were going to fuck him now. He tried to hide his eagerness, tried to play the part of the reluctant virgin captive, but his body betrayed him, his legs spreading, his ass thrusting into the air as they came up underneath him.

Lupin moved up behind Harry, but he didn't kneel down to fuck him as Harry expected. Instead Harry suddenly felt a stream of hot liquid hit the top of his ass, and the smell of urine filled the air. Lupin's piss ran over Harry's sides and down the crack of his ass, over his opening and around his balls to drip off the tip of his cock. Then Lupin brought his stream lower, aiming right at Harry's entrance, and Harry moaned and thrust his ass up to meet it, marvelling at a feeling he had never thought to want before.

Lupin's stream trickled off all to soon, but then he was kneeling at Harry's ass and Harry couldn't even bother to try to be unwilling. Instead of Lupin's hard cock, though, it was a thin cold object that pushed against his entrance, as Lupin penetrated Harry with his wand. Lupin fucked Harry with his wand, performing a lubricating charm, and stretching him just enough so that his thick cock would be able to breach Harry's newly virginal hole. Then the wand was gone, and Lupin's cock was there, and Harry screamed because it was still too much for his thirteen-year-old body.

It hurt, fuck, it hurt, but it was good too, and as the endorphins flooded his body and Lupin's deep hard strokes found his prostate, the good began to overwhelm the hurt. Harry's cock started to harden again, but just as he started to find the rhythm to thrust back against Lupin, a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. Black was there, kneeling in front of Harry, his cock, hard and dripping, inches from Harry's face. Keeping a firm hold on Harry's hair, he brought his other hand up to Harry's face, using his thumb to force Harry's mouth open, and then he was sliding his cock past Harry's teeth and cramming himself down Harry's throat.

Harry struggled for a few moments not to choke, to open his throat so Black could fuck his mouth, but then he found the spot, the place that let him surrender himself to the rhythm of the cock being thrust down his throat. Then Lupin found that same rhythm in his ass that Black had taken up in this throat and Harry caved in to the sensation around him. He pushed away all the parts of himself that made him _him_ , and became a thing made wholly to experience sensation, a conduit of pleasure for the two men thrusting into him, taking pleasure from them and feeding it back to them. And some time, somewhere in all this, he came, spurting white across the grimy floor, the spasms of his climax bringing Lupin and Black in rapid succession.

The two men slipped their softening cocks from Harry's body, and he collapsed into Sirius' arms. They lay there for a long while, spent and covered in spunk and dust, Remus and Sirius petting Harry, running their hands gently over his body, Remus casting quiet healing charms to repair the worst of the damage they had done to Harry's body. Harry slowly came down from his high, and was just starting to come back into himself when Sirius rose, picking Harry's lighter-than-usual frame up easily in his arms, and then they were rising out of the pensieve. Harry, for once, did not notice the disorienting lurch as they landed back in their own bedroom.

Sirius placed Harry in middle of their king-sized bed and crawled in beside him. Remus came around to sit on Harry's other side, bringing a vial of greyish potion with him and raising it to Harry's lips. Harry swallowed it obediently. This one tasted like wind and stone and dust. He had certainly tasted enough dust tonight to have a good reference for comparison, he thought, and the thought, combined with the pain of his body growing back seven years' worth of growth in a matter of seconds, served to bring him mostly back into himself as those pieces that made him Harry Potter slid back into place.

Harry stretched, yawned, and smiled up at his lovers. "Thank you."

Sirius leaned over and kissed him softly, then asked, "That was what you wanted then?"

"Mmhm," Harry nodded. "what I wanted and more."

"Good," Sirius said and kissed him again.

When Sirius pulled back, Harry looked over at Remus. "By the way, what made you think to pee on me?"

Remus blushed and looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have done that. I should have asked you first."

"Maybe so," Harry acknowledged, sliding his hand over Remus' where it lay on the bed. "I did like it though."

Remus glanced at him. "Really?"

"Yeah."

And then it was Remus' turn to kiss him. When they broke off, Remus smiled down at Harry and said softly, "You're not the only one with secret fantasies, you know."

Harry grinned and turned to Sirius. "Well, that was my secret fantasy, and Remus' apparently involves pissing on me, so what's yours?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. "Harry, I just fucked my thirteen-year-old godson, it doesn't get much dirtier than that."

"Yes, but that was my fantasy. I want to know yours." Harry reached up to run his fingers through Sirius' hair, but they got caught up in the mess of tangled knots that Sirius had made of it for authenticity. "This is going to take forever to get untangled again, you know."

"Maybe that should be my secret fantasy," Sirius replied with a grin. "You could be my slave boy and spend all your time pampering me. You know, brushing my hair, massaging my feet, giving incredible blowjobs, that sort of thing."

Harry just rolled his eyes, and then rolled over and pretended to try and sleep.


End file.
